


Safe Haven

by Savageseraph



Series: Space Assassins [4]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Conspiracy, M/M, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 07:53:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5120702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageseraph/pseuds/Savageseraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an apparent hit gone wrong, Viggo needs to hole up until the heat dies down.  And he's not the only one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Galadriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/gifts).



Viggo wondered if the blondes hovering around him at the bar were twins or just altered to look like it. The boy had pouty lips that screamed “cocksucker,” and his maybe-sister had cleavage deep enough to drown in. After his last few jobs, Viggo had money enough to splurge and buy them both for the evening if he wanted. Problem was, he wasn’t sure he did. Gratification for hire was the prudent path to take when you killed people for a living, but as skilled as professionals were at their jobs, Viggo wished he had someone who wanted to suck his cock for reasons other than he paid them to do it.

 _Fucking hell._ He knocked back the remainders of his Telian brandy in two swallows. Drunk was preferably to maudlin any day of the week and twice on Sundays. He raised his hand to get the barkeep’s attention and order another drink when the screen in the corner of the bar flicked from some inane celebrity chatter to a news alert. The footage, run in slow motion and crisp detail, showed the planet’s Prime addressing a gathering of some sort when the head of the woman who stood at his side (most probably his wife) exploded in a bloody rain of bone and brain an instant before a huge security officer took the Prime to the ground, shielding his leader’s body with his own. 

Inside the bar, patrons and staff and even the pretty blonde whores stopped what they were doing to listen. Viggo could feel the shock and outrage building in the room and did the only prudent thing. He got the hell out of there. High-level political assassinations didn’t usually make for happy times for off-worlders. Checking his comm pad, he saw that the space ports were locked down, and city transport was frozen.

 _Just fucking fantastic._ Not only did Viggo not hear there was a hit out on the Prime (and he was ranked high enough in the guild that he should have had a chance at the contract) but he was stuck on this planet at the ass-end of the Rim until things calmed down. While he could leave once the space port re-opened, he’d wait things out, wait until there was less scrutiny on the coming and goings of everyone passing through security, before he left.

Viggo moved as quickly as he could without looking like he was rushing. He let himself merge into the flow of the people around him as he took a winding path to a modest neighborhood of row houses where he peeled off from the crowd to cut through an alley between two buildings. His comm helpfully told him the alley was still unmonitored and unoccupied, and once the scanner confirmed he was safe, he put on a pair of gloves, lifted a manhole cover, and climbed down the ladder it was covering. 

He started through the maze of tunnels that supplied the houses with energy and utilities, counting each turn until he came to a smooth wall.

And a man in a dark hooded jacket pounding a fist into it.

 _Unexpected_ Viggo thought as he eased his gun from his holster. He could count the number of people who knew about this safe house on one hand with fingers to spare, and he was the only person who could access it. _And inconvenient._ Sharing space with a corpse for days or weeks wasn’t going to pleasant.

“God damned fucking hell, Viggo, what did you do?”

Viggo nearly dropped his weapon in shock before realizing he knew the speaker and that said speaker wasn’t aware of his presence.

“Reprogrammed all the security measures.” Viggo’s voice was pitched low, but it was loud enough to make Sean turn, his weapon drawn and raised and pointing unerringly at Viggo’s head before he stopped moving.

“Open the door, Viggo.” There was only the slightest pause before he added. “Now.”

“As I recall, I don’t answer to you anymore, Sean.” Viggo’s own weapon stayed trained on his former partner, former friend. Former lover.

“Things are going to get ugly here, Vig. You know that.”

Viggo nodded. “I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s a matter of debate. But neither of us want to be out here when they do.”

“Why did you shoot her? How could you have missed him so badly?”

Sean blinked. “Me?” He shook his head. “You think that fucking spectacle was me? No way. Not in the middle of a news conference. Not in broad daylight with cameras and security everywhere.”

“So you were worried you wouldn’t be able to pull it off?”

“Fuck yourself, Vig. I don’t do pregnant women. I remember a time when you had some scruples about shite jobs like that too.”

“Oh, so I did it? And she was the target, not her husband?” 

“You’re looking for someplace to hide out, and by way of jobs, it would have come to one of us first.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Viggo felt time ticking by as they faced each other in silence.

Sean rubbed at the back of his neck. “It wasn’t you?”

“No. It wasn’t.”

“Fuck.” Sean couldn’t pace, not and keep his weapon trained on Viggo, so he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “So are we going to do the Regimentals’ job for them and kill each other right here, or are we going to call a truce—“ he grimaced as if those last words tasted sour—“and get out of this shitestorm alive?”

Viggo took his time considering Sean’s question. He certainly didn’t have a deathwish, and as much as he’d like to say he was not responsible for and indifferent with respect to Sean’s fate, the gravity of their shared past crushed that lie.

“Okay. This is how things are going to go. You’re going to give me your weapons. All of them.” He held up a hand to stop Sean’s objection. “This isn’t a negotiation. My place. My rules. I get your weapon and your promise of truce. Once we leave, you get your things back, and we go our separate ways.”

Sean glared dark death at Viggo. “You have a lot of balls to expect—“

“Do we have a deal or not, Sean? Your call.”

The tension in the tunnel with them was strong enough Viggo fancied he could feel it pressing against his skin. He knew Sean was waiting for him to break the silence that fell between them. Sean was going to be waiting a hell of a long time. 

Finally, Sean let fly with a string of colorful curses as lowered his weapon, slid it (and two others over to Viggo. “It’s a deal you goddamned prick.”

Viggo kept his gaze and weapon on Sean until he’d picked up the ones from the ground. He’d make Sean strip once they were inside. After all, he couldn’t be too sure. The wall responded to Viggo’s touch, and he traced a code that made an entryway melt away. He gestured to Sean. “After you.”

The look Sean gave him would have been enough to make any sane man run as fast as he could away from him or, if he happened to be holding a gun, to put a bullet in his head before the tightly leashed temper sizzling in his eyes could fully catch fire. 

Viggo licked his lips as he followed Sean into the rooms and sealed the area behind them. As he did, he wondered if it might have been safer to take his chances with the planetary guard than lock himself away with another predator as skilled as he was at causing death.


	2. Chapter 2

It took Viggo three hours to be able to tap into the news net from his bunker. All the time he spent pecking away at the computer, Sean sat on the sofa, arms crossed over his chest, glaring a hole in the back of Viggo’s head. He hadn’t taken well to Viggo’s demand to the strip search gracefully or to Viggo discovering two knives after he did. Sean’s weapons were locked in wall safe, along with Viggo’s own. A necessary precaution to keep Sean from possibly gaining the advantage and stealing Viggo’s gun while he slept.

“Should we see what the locals are up to?” Viggo didn’t turn from the computer as he spoke, or at the non-committal sound Sean made in reply. _Surly, stubborn ass._

Viggo came out of his chair, anger warring with alarm, as the news feed flickered to life and a picture of said surly, stubborn ass stared back at him from the monitor. He shook his head in disbelief. “What the fuck did you do, Sean?”

“Me, what are you going on about, you--?” Sean’s mouth snapped closed as he saw the monitor over Viggo’s shoulder, saw his image as a person of interest in the shooting.

“You said you didn’t—“

“This isn’t happening.” Sean raised his hands to his head, his fingers tightening in his hair. “This isn’t fucking happening.”

The two of them spoke quickly, spoke over each other. Viggo gestured at the screen. “They have your picture. Your _fucking_ picture. They _made_ you, you stupid, arrogant ass.”

“I wasn’t anywhere near that park, Vig. I wasn’t anywhere near those people.” There was a wild look in Sean’s eyes that bothered Viggo more than anger or menace would have. 

“Then how…?” Viggo’s words trailed off. _How indeed._

“How? How the fuck should I know?” His voice had an edge of desperation, and Viggo knew if he pressed too hard, what little control Sean still had would snap.

Viggo rubbed at his jaw. This didn’t make sense. If there was a high-level hit out, both of them should have known about it. If someone had ordered a hit on the Prime, they had credits enough to hire someone who wouldn’t miss. If it was on the wife, maybe in an attempt to punish or control him, that was still a job that Viggo should have heard about. This whole thing stank like a festering midden. 

“Why are you here?”

Sean was muttering to himself under his breath as he paced as much as the confines of the room would allow. 

“ _Sean._ ” When Sean stopped, when Viggo had his attention, he asked, “Why are you here?”

“So I didn’t get dead out there.” Sean gestured sharply at the door. His tone making it clear he though it was an idiot question to ask.

Viggo didn’t smile--wouldn’t smile—even though he wanted to. Anger was good. Much better than panic. “Not here in this bunker. Here on Telia. Taking some time for entertainment before the next job?” He wondered if Sean would take the lure he’d set and lie to him. Telia didn’t have the drink, drugs, or brothels that would tempt either of them to linger.

“It was stopover. A transfer point from…” He eyed Viggo warily, wet his lips. “From where I was before here.”

“And you stayed because you find the locals fascinating?”

“Still a sarcastic son of a bitch, aren’t you?” Sean folded his arms across his chest. “I got a message to wait for a package that needed to go back to the guildhouse. Okay?”

Okay? It was so far from okay Viggo wondered that Sean couldn’t see that. The guild had couriers aplenty who were a hell of a lot better at smuggling shit between worlds than he and Sean were. Infiltrate and eliminate. That was their job.

“Just why does it matter? And why the fuck are you here, Vig?”

Viggo did smile then. At least Sean was starting to think and not simply react. “I wanted a place to disappear for a time.”

“From a job gone sour?” 

If their current situation wasn’t so sublimely fucked, Viggo would have given Sean cause to regret the insult. “From everything.” Miraculously, Sean took the hint, nodded once, and backed off. And Viggo hated him a little for it. For robbing him of a chance for a spectacular fight. For giving him something he needed to feel grateful for.

“So what do we do now?”

That was the fucking question of the day, wasn’t it? Viggo sighed heavily, raked his fingers through his hair, and wished he had an answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for caras_galadhon for the 2015 Sons of Gondor Trick or Treat Exchange.


End file.
